


crutch

by powerandpathos



Series: 19 Days After-Shots [10]
Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Canon Continuation, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, after-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerandpathos/pseuds/powerandpathos
Summary: He Tian hisses as Guan Shan peels away the soaked fabric of his shirt from damp skin. There’s no puncture wounds; instead, there’s a bruise the size of Guan Shan’s fist in He Tian’s side, and Guan Shan doesn’t know how much of his wound sits beneath the surface of his skin like an iceberg.‘You could have broken somethin’.’‘Feels like it,’ says He Tian.‘You might—you could have internal bleeding.’‘Probably.’[19 Days after-shot of ch. 329: the landslide]
Relationships: He Cheng/Brother Qiu (19 Days), He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days), Jian Yi/Zhan Zhengxi (19 Days)
Series: 19 Days After-Shots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/611875
Comments: 35
Kudos: 604





	crutch

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written one of these in a while, but the latest update inspired me! I recommend listening to the track ['you're okay'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdTNpbsk80c) by Brodyn for this fic.

‘You hypocrite,’ Guan Shan whispers. ‘You fuckin’ hypocrite.’ 

‘What have I done this time?’ He Tian asks. He’s smiling, but the question tapers off with a wince, and Guan Shan wants to shout at him. 

_This!_ he wants to shout. _This is what you’ve fucking done!_

Instead, he does nothing. He sits and simmers silently while He Tian staves off the flash of pain. Guan Shan still has his hands on him; he’d hugged him thoughtlessly, driven on impulse— _alive, he’s alive, alive—_ and now he’s finding the concept of letting go difficult to contend with. He ignores it. He’s grateful, for now, that He Tian seems to be ignoring it too. 

He’ll spoil it soon, makes some ribald remark that’ll ruin it for the both of them, but now he stays silent. Guan Shan thinks the pain is keeping him quiet. 

They look up at the sound of footsteps on damp earth and twigs snapping. Jian Yi and Zhengxi have come back, and they’re both panting. 

‘There’s nothing!’ Jian Yi cries. ‘We walked a mile all around.’

‘So go further,’ Guan Shan growls.

‘The further we go, the more chance we have at losing each other,’ says Zhengxi, frowning.

‘It happens in the horror movies all the time!’ Jian Yi concurs. ‘The group splits up, and the weak ones get picked off!’ He smacks both hands together and in a grave voice says, ‘ _Like flies.’_

Guan Shan glares at him. ‘Who are _you_ callin’ a fly?’

‘If anyone’s getting picked off, it’ll be me.’

They all look at He Tian. The joke is a weak one; self-deprecation doesn’t suit him, and the sound of it makes Guan Shan feel ill. He Tian’s skin has paled a shade or two, and he looks washed out against the ink blackness of his hair and his eyes, which have started to dilate. 

‘Shit,’ Guan Shan mutters.

He Tian rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not that bad,’ he says. He puts a palm on the tree trunk at his back and starts to draw his legs beneath him. ‘I can still get— _Fuck!’_

They all start forward as He Tian’s legs buckle from beneath him, feet slipping in the mud. He collides back to the ground with a thud that makes Guan Shan’s teeth rattle, and He Tian clutches at his side with his features pinched, eyes squeezed shut. He breathes out shallowly through his mouth, muttering a string of nonsensical words. _(Boat, water, mountain, Red, labrador, Zhonghua.)_ Guan Shan thinks he’s lost it at first—gone delirious with pain or some kind of infection, but then he realises. 

_Just like they trained him,_ Guan Shan thinks.

‘He needs a fuckin’ doctor,’ he says to the others.

‘I’m right here,’ says He Tian—weakly. 

They ignore him. 

‘What do we do?’ asks Jian Yi frantically. ‘This could be miles-deep and none of us have GPS. It’ll get dark soon.’

‘Grandma Li might have a phone,’ says Zhengxi. ‘We should go back to hers.’

‘That was a fuckin’ _hour_ away,’ Guan Shan protests angrily. ‘It’ll take you longer in this rain.’

‘Have you got a better idea?’ Zhengxi counters archly. 

Guan Shan grits his teeth. _Fuck this shit,_ he thinks. He wants to start pointing fingers, throwing accusations. Whose fucking idea was this anyway? He nearly asks, but does it matter? Isn’t this what happens when he tries to play at having a good thing? 

‘I know the way,’ says Jian Yi. ‘Me and Xixi will go—you stay here with He Tian.’

‘I’ll be fine—’ He Tian starts, but Guan Shan cuts him off. 

‘Where else am I gonna go?’ 

A moment passes. 

‘You’re sure?’ asks Zhengxi, dark brow furrowed, but he’s already pulling out a spare bottle of water from his backpack for them to keep. He looks between Guan Shan and He Tian with a strange expression on his face. Worry, probably. Guan Shan remembers two things from the landslide: He Tian’s hand shoving hard at his back, and another’s tugging him forward. Zhan Zhengxi’s. Resentment and gratitude whorl painfully in his stomach, and anguish tugs at the corners of Guan Shan’s mouth. Another moment of weakness, of someone else pulling him out of harm’s way. Another debt.

Guan Shan narrows his eyes at Zhengxi after a moment and he says, ‘’Course I’m fuckin’ sure, you—’

‘Mo Guan Shan,’ He Tian murmurs behind him, a warning, and then coughs. 

Guan Shan bows his head, mollified. He knows what He Tian’s trying to say. He’s being nasty—prickly and clawed, but he can’t help himself. His heart is a panicked staccato in his chest, fast enough to hurt. He can feel the vibration of it in his bones, feels like he’s about to choke on the pulse in his throat.

‘Go,’ he says. ‘Don’t be long.’ After a minute, despite himself, he adds: _‘Please.’_

///

Half an hour passes, and they listen to the rain fall in silence. 

Guan Shan knows He Tian is uncomfortable; he shifts every so often and doesn’t do so well at hiding the pain. Or maybe he does—and Guan Shan is watching too closely. He knows they share the trait of needing to hide it, as if the weakness of exposure will be what kills them in the end and not their injury. He knows, seeing it in He Tian, that it’s futile. 

He Tian’s silence is telling. He doesn’t keep up conversation and the short, stilted commentary he does offer is brief and serves only one purpose.

‘Stop it,’ Guan Shan tells him. ‘I know you’re hurtin’.’

He Tian doesn’t speak again for another twenty minutes.

‘We should move,’ he says. It’s still raining, and the ground around them is becoming loose. They’re both soaked-through and there’s mud everywhere. Soon, the small crater He Tian fell into will be flooded. 

‘You’re not movin’ anywhere,’ Guan Shan says flatly. ‘You can’t walk.’

He Tian blinks. ‘You can carry me, can’t you, Little Mo?’

‘You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me.’

‘I am,’ He Tian says, grinning. He’s paler than Guan Shan’s ever seen him now, his hair plastered at odd angles around his face, and the adrenaline has probably started to wear off. Is he going to go into shock? Does his body know how to? He Tian says, ‘I’d like to see you try it, though. Later. When I’m less… indisposed.’

‘In-di-what?’

He Tian shakes his head. ‘Just pull me up, alright? You can be my crutch.’

‘You should be so fuckin’ lucky,’ Guan Shan mutters, but he gets to his feet anyway. Privately, he considers that he’d carry He Tian back to the city if he had to. He knows, on some other level, that He Tian would do the same for him. The thought sits with him strangely. He isn’t sure he’s had that kind of fallback before—that kind of crutch. 

_Easier for him,_ Guan Shan thinks, shrewdly considering He Tian’s size. _Fucking brute._

He steps forward, and bends over at the waist, putting both hands firmly beneath He Tian’s armpits. 

He says, ‘This is gonna hurt.’

There’s a moment where He Tian says, ‘Counting on it, sweetheart,’ and then Guan Shan pulls _._

///

‘It’s just over here,’ Jian Yi says. ‘I know it is. I remember that tree.’

‘Impressive,’ Zhengxi remarks. ‘You remembered the last fifty trees but can’t remember to do your own homework?’

Jian Yi winces. ‘Just trust me. I know where we’re going.’

‘I do trust you,’ says Zhengxi, keeping his voice steady. He’s starting to worry, but he’s not going to let Jian Yi know it. They don’t need any more disasters. ‘I just don’t think we’re in the right place.’

‘Then you don’t trust me.’

‘Jian Yi,’ Zhengxi sighs.

Jian Yi marches ahead, quicker than before. They’re moving at a half-jog now, and Zhengxi knows they won’t be able to keep this up for long. 

_‘Jian Yi,’_ he says, firmer. When Jian Yi ignores him, Zhengxi reaches a hand out, fingers catching on the soaked fabric of Jian Yi’s t-shirt, and yanks him to a stop. ‘Hey, _Jian Yi.’_

‘We can’t _stop_ , Xixi. If we stop we’re wasting more time— _and they don’t have it.’_

‘So you want us to keep walking in a direction that might not lead us to any help at all? You don’t think _that’s_ wasting time?’

Jian Yi falters, his logic caught out. Zhengxi sighs.

‘Let’s just _think_ for a second,’ he says.

Jian Yi runs a hand through the long strands of blond hair that cling to his neck and jawline. There are beads of water caught in his eyelashes, and Zhengxi considers a loose stream of water that trails down the slope of Jian Yi’s neck and disappears somewhere beneath his shirt.

Jian Yi has settled on looking down at his feet. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, sounding a little choked. ‘I just wanted to get help.’

‘I know,’ Zhengxi soothes. Partially, he registers that this is his own fault too: he shouldn’t have let Jian Yi lead. 

They both check their phones—still nothing. No bars, no GPS. Zhengxi didn’t think to download the map to his phone before they left. Irritation shakes him, but he can’t allow it to fester. He thinks of the canvas board his mother has hung in the guest bathroom at home. She’d bought it at a secondhand store on a shopping trip with Zixi, and he can see the curling, half-illegible lettering in his mind: _You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved._ Zhengxi hated it until now.

‘What if—What if He Tian _dies?’_ Jian Yi whispers.

‘He won’t.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because he’s He Tian,’ Zhengxi says simply. That seems answer enough for all of them, as it always has done. He Tian’s reputation precedes—no, _supersedes_ him. He’s the kind of person Zhengxi knows he’ll probably only meet once in his life, faultlessly confident and enviably, _unsettlingly_ adept at just about everything. Zhengxi thinks He Tian could fight off Death with a smile and a well-placed punch.

Jian Yi nods, mollified. He knows this, too. 

‘We walked west,’ says Zhengxi. ‘When we left Granny Li’s, we walked west.’

‘Zhengxi…’

Zhengxi squints at the skyline, where the rain is starting to settle and the sky is clearing. He can just make out the bright presence of the slowly sinking sun. He turns, pointing. 

‘That’s east,’ he says. ‘Maybe not exactly, but we’ll hit the treeline if we keep going. We could get signal there.’

‘Brother Qiu’s gonna be so mad with me,’ Jian Yi sniffs.

Zhengxi chuckles. ‘You’d better start running now.’

///

As Guan Shan pulls He Tian to his feet, the silence makes it sound like screaming, and Guan Shan supposes it’s the closest thing he’ll elicit from He Tian. What he gets is a muted grunt of pain, and a sound from the back of He Tian’s throat like he’s suddenly stopped breathing, all air cut like turning off a faucet. 

‘You good?’ Guan Shan asks. 

‘Gimme a minute,’ He Tian grunts.

They stand there in silence— _boat, water, mountain, Red, labrador, Zhonghua_ —until eventually He Tian gives a muted nod, teeth clenched, the line of his jaw exaggerated. A muscle strains in his neck, and Guan Shan can see the jump of his pulse. He stares at it.

‘Okay,’ says He Tian eventually. He’s favouring his left side, and Guan Shan moves to his right so he can put an arm around his waist without too much pressure, letting He Tian drape an arm around his shoulders. The heavy weight of him is instant, but Guan Shan knows it’s not much of him—just enough for Guan Shan to sustain for a while.

He wants to tell He Tian to lean on him, no holding back, but there’s a degree of realistic expectation stopping him. He couldn’t carry He Tian far or long—but he’d fucking try.

‘We’ll go slow,’ Guan Shan says, cheeks colouring.

‘I’m taking notes of all the interesting things you’re saying.’

 _Good,_ Guan Shan thinks. He can manage a bit of self-mortification if it keeps He Tian’s mind occupied. 

They do go slow—almost painfully—in a fashion that makes Guan Shan restless with irritation as they pause for the hundredth time and He Tian breathes out in shallow torrents through his mouth, sipping occasionally from the bottle of water Zhengxi left them. But Guan Shan tamps it down. He’s dreading the kind of damage inflicted beneath He Tian’s skin, and he’ll walk like this all night if he has to. If nothing else, the movement keeps them warm

They’re both shaking by the time they’ve moved half a mile onto higher, more solid ground; it takes them nearly an hour. The rain has stopped. Above them, the sky is starting to clear of clouds through the canopy of trees, and a blanket of grey is giving way to rich pinks and purples of sunset. The thunder and lightning has slowed by now, sounding far off, and cool air rushes in to follow the storm. Guan Shan has lost all concept of time. 

They find an uprooted tree for He Tian to settle himself against, the underside of it is as big as a small car, and the root system bares itself like a series of long, broken arms reaching out towards them. It lies beneath a thick awning canopy of gingko and fir trees, offering a moderately dry bed of fallen pine needles and brown leaves beneath which to shelter. Guan Shan stands a little way off after He Tian sits, pacing freely, rolling his shoulders without the burden of He Tian’s weight that Guan Shan thought grew steadily heavier as they walked. His stomach twists with hunger. 

He watches He Tian from the corner of his eye, muttering to himself and taking a few minutes to catch his breath. A thin veil of sweat coats him, and he’s gotten paler. Talking seems to cost him. 

‘We didn’t—leave markers,’ He Tian says, pausing for breath. ‘For the others.’

Guan Shan frowns. ‘They’ll find us. We haven’t gone far.’

He Tian smiles thinly. ‘Mo Guan Shan, the optimist.’

‘You’re not gonna die here.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

Guan Shan swears under his breath. He moves forward, crouching down at He Tian’s side. 

‘Let me look,’ he orders.

‘So bold.’

‘At where you got hit,’ Guan Shan growls. ‘Let me look.’

‘Be my guest.’

Guan Shan hesitates, only for a moment, before reaching forward to gather the hem of He Tian’s t-shirt in his hands. The intimacy of the moment doesn’t go unchecked. He Tian is looking at him with pained intensity, and Guan Shan is conscious of every movement. A constrained humour twists He Tian’s lips.

‘Well?’ He Tian asks evenly.

Guan Shan flashes him with a glare, and starts to lift his shirt.

He Tian hisses as Guan Shan peels away the soaked fabric of his shirt from damp skin. There’s no puncture wounds; instead, there’s a bruise the size of Guan Shan’s fist in He Tian’s side, and Guan Shan doesn’t know how much of his wound sits beneath the surface of his skin like an iceberg.

‘You could have broken somethin’.’

‘Feels like it,’ says He Tian.

‘You might—you could have internal bleeding.’

‘Probably.’

Guan Shan snaps. ‘How the fuck are you so _calm_? Aren’t you _scared?_ ’

He Tian considers him lazily, and smiles. ‘I think you’re scared enough for the both of us, sweetheart.’ 

‘I’m not scared,’ Guan Shan seethes. ‘And don’t call me that.’

‘Yes, you are, Little Mo. You’re not used to seeing me like this.’

‘Fuck off. And don’t call me that either.’ Something makes Guan Shan pause, a hook catching on a tendril of memory. ‘I am used to it,’ he says after a moment. ‘You—after what happened with She Li. It felt like this then. You cut your hand up pretty fuckin’ bad.’

‘I wasn’t going to die from a papercut.’

_‘You’re not gonna die from this, chicken shit!’_

His anger runs through the forest, sticky echoes through the damp, verdant woodland. Despite the breeze, the summer air is still muggy with the thunderstorm, and the buzz of insects and croaking of frogs is loud. Soon, the mosquitoes will start to swarm, their buzzing low and drone-like, and the forest will be too alive for comfort.

‘Probably not,’ He Tian says. He grins, winces. ‘It— _ah_ , it does hurt like a son of a bitch, though.’

Guan Shan scowls at the way he says it like a declaration—like a joke. _Stop making me feel sorry for you,_ he thinks. Be he knows that He Tian would milk it more than this if he wanted to. Guan Shan looks at him carefully. He’s shivering.

‘Are you cold?’ Guan Shan asks.

‘Kind of. Is it cold?’

Guan Shan frowns. ‘It’s humid,’ he says. They’re pretty high up—it’ll get cooler as the evening draws on, the moisture in the air freezing on their skin. Their clothing is still damp. 

‘Huh,’ says He Tian. ‘Feels cold.’

Guan Shan grimaces. ‘You might be goin’ into shock.’

‘Lucky me.’

‘You’ve gotta stay elevated and warm. That’s what my ma told me.’

‘I’m high as a kite, Little Mo. You don’t have to worry about me.’

_But I do, asshole._

Guan Shan makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat. Before He Tian can protest, Guan Shan starts to tug away the rest of He Tian’s shirt, lifting it over his head. It elongates his torso, and He Tian doubles over as the motion jostles his injured ribs. 

‘Ah, ah— _xī, be careful!’_

‘You want me to rip it off you?’

‘If you’re— _Fuck!_ —into that.’

Guan Shan ignores him. He pulls the t-shirt over He Tian’s head with only a little spite, and balls the fabric up into his fist. There’s a lot of skin, Guan Shan realises—more than a fifteen-year-old should have—and most of it is beaded with small dots of perspiration, pimpled from the cold.

‘Need to get those, too,’ Guan Shan says, pointing to He Tian’s sweatpants, which are caked in mud and dirty rainwater. There are specks of blood, too, which explain the small scratches on He Tian’s arms that he must have acquired from loose stone or trees. 

He Tian sighs deeply. ‘All this time I thought about you undressing me, and it’s because of this. What a mood-killer.’

Guan Shan sticks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and slowly hooks a finger beneath He Tian’s waistband. 

‘You know,’ says He Tian languidly, head rolling against the tree. ‘I’m still not wearing any underwear.’

Guan Shan pauses. The tip of his finger lingers against the cool skin of He Tian’s abdomen.

‘I don’t care,’ he says eventually. ‘Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.’ 

‘Well, be gentle with me,’ He Tian teases. He makes it sound like a preference, but Guan Shan knows it’s a warning. He’s hurting and losing patience with the fact. 

Guan Shan undoes the zipper, and he helps He Tian lift himself slightly to draw his sweatpants down. Guan Shan takes care to slip off He Tian’s shoes before pulling them over his ankles.

‘Something you like?’ He Tian asks. 

‘I’m not even lookin’.’

‘My underwear’s in my pocket, if it makes you uncomfortable.’ 

‘I’m not fuckin’ uncomfortable!’

He Tian sniffs. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘We should get used to being around each other— _au naturale.’_

Guan Shan finds He Tian’s underwear; a little damp but dry enough. He rolls his eyes at the designer label on them. So much money for a scrap of cloth stitched together by someone who didn’t make that much in a _month._

‘Ridiculous,’ he mutters. He waves them in He Tian’s face. ‘People who buy this shit shouldn’t have that much money.’

‘I like to increase my value,’ He Tian replies. ‘I’ll buy you some, if you like. We can be matching.’

Guan Shan scoffs. Naturally, He Tian is unbothered with being stripped down to nothingness before Guan Shan in the middle of a forest, and Guan Shan deliberately avoids looking at his crotch. Is he succeeding at being blasé and unaffected? The worry of it alone sets his pulse going. 

He uses He Tian’s underwear as a cloth to dry off the moisture from He Tian’s body, the pressure careful across his torso, offering long, sweeping strokes down his legs and muscled calves. He Tian shivers beneath the touch, and Guan Shan can see his jaw trembling to stop his teeth from chattering.

‘Well?’ He Tian says, when Guan Shan is finished. ‘Are you gonna protect my modesty?’

‘They’re damp now,’ he says, standing up to hang He Tian’s underwear with the rest of his clothes off a tree. It’s still warm—they should dry soon. By which time Guan Shan hopes Qiu or He Tian’s brother will have found them. Has He Tian’s bruising gotten bigger?

A beat passes, and Guan Shan begins to pull off his own t-shirt.

He Tian’s smile freezes. ‘What are you doing?’ he asks politely, through his teeth.

‘You’ve gotta stay warm,’ Guan Shan replies evenly. ‘My clothes are wet, too.’

‘Ah,’ says He Tian, nodding slowly. He stares while Guan Shan strips himself, quickly and methodically, no hesitation, no grappling with the button for his shirts. He uses a tree for balance while he pulls off his socks, sodden with mud and water. He wrings his clothes out and makes a point to ignore the steady assessment of He Tian’s gaze. 

‘Nothin’ you haven’t seen before,’ Guan Shan mutters. 

He Tian makes a sound of consideration. ‘Never quite feels like it.’

Guan Shan swallows. He says, ‘Can you roll on your good side?’

He Tian’s eyebrows rise. ‘Are you going to _spoon me_ , Mo Guan Shan?’

‘Answer the fuckin’ question.’

‘I could try,’ says He Tian. He pushes himself up, muttering under his breath, and it takes him five minutes and some choice swearing that makes Guan Shan’s blush before he’s in a lying position that doesn’t strain his ribs.

‘Ready when you are,’ He Tian says. 

Guan Shan doesn’t let himself think too hard on the mechanics of the situation. He Tian has a few inches on him in height, so Guan Shan has to press his cheek to He Tian’s shoulder blades for his knees to fit in behind He Tian’s. It’s imperfect; it’s warm. The platonic closeness of it is more comforting that Guan Shan would like to acknowledge. 

He considers the way his breath shakes across He Tian’s skin, how he can feel He Tian’s lungs expanding. He feels warmer in minutes, and has said nothing for some time. 

‘Did you fall asleep?’ Guan Shan asks, after ten or more minutes must have passed.

‘Not quite,’ says He Tian. His voice sounds slightly strained.

Guan Shan frowns. ‘Does it hurt?’ he asks. 

‘Not quite.’

There’s a pause. 

Guan Shan narrows his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’re—’

‘It’ll pass in a minute.’

Guan Shan makes a disgusted sound, but doesn’t pull away. ‘The fuck are you always _like_ this—’

‘It’s not like I can _help_ it. The circumstances aren’t doing me any favours.’

‘Should I let go?’

 _‘No,’_ He Tian says loudly. His voice softens: ‘No, it’s fine. You make a good spoon, Little Mo.’

Guan Shan rolls his eyes, then shuts them. The sun is setting around them, casting strange shadows on the forest floor. He can hear the high calling of a macaque in the distance, the thrumming of insects and frogs, and somewhere not far from them, an owl hoots. 

Guan Shan chews on his lip.

‘Your thoughts are loud,’ He Tian murmurs. 

‘I was just… There aren’t bears in here, are there?’

He Tian snorts. ‘Given everything today, probably. And jungle cats.’

‘You’re meant to say no.’

‘I thought you didn’t want me to comfort and protect you anymore.’

Guan Shan scowls. ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘No?’ He Tian twists his head slightly. ‘Then what makes you think I’m such a hypocrite?’

‘’Cause you keep tryin’ to save anyone but yourself. _You_ tell people not to carry shit alone.’ 

‘And by others you mean you.’

‘You know exactly what I fuckin’ mean.’ 

He Tian is quiet for a moment. ‘Alright,’ he says. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah, what?’

‘Yes, I’m a hypocrite. Happy?’

 _No,_ Guan Shan wants to say. He’s not happy in the slightest. This isn’t a game to be won, and he knows the situation is too fucked up to feel accomplished about He Tian backing down. Probably, He Tian’s got a couple of broken ribs and maybe something worse; there’s not much to be achieved by getting him to admit defeat. It feels like Guan Shan has kicked He Tian off the podium and snatched the trophy from his hands. It feels like cheating. 

‘Whatever,’ he mutters. And then: ‘Thanks.’

‘What for?’

‘Don’t make me spell it out,’ Guan Shan gripes.

He Tian doesn’t. He goes quiet, breathing evening out, and they both simmer. Guan Shan can feel He Tian’s heart beating against his cheek through He Tian’s shoulders, the width of them broad and strong, his skin smooth. Guan Shan’s hand lies gently against his chest, which rises and falls beneath his palm. His eyelids have started to grow heavy; he finds he doesn’t mind that his back is bared.

///

He must sleep for a little while. When he wakes, the sky has gone dark and Guan Shan’s mouth is dry and sour-tasting. The first thing he notices is how hot he feels despite the cool night air; the second is the wind roaring above them and the sound of a forest ready to buckle.

Guan Shan startles. 

Above the treeline, a blinding light like a floodlight bores down on them, and Guan Shan raises one hand to block it out from burning his retinas. The sound, he realises, is of a mechanical blade swinging wildly against the green canopy of the forest.

‘Fuck— _He Tian!’_ he shouts over the sound of it. Beside him, He Tian murmurs something inaudible. His skin is burning beneath Guan Shan’s hand. He’s started to fever. Guan Shan scrambles to his feet, leaving He Tian to cry out mutedly and roll onto his back.

‘Here!’ Guan shouts, arms waving wildly. ‘We’re here! We’re right fuckin’ here!’

He can feel the panicked hysteria bubbling in his voice. What if they don’t see him? What if they’re stuck here forever, and he’s burdened with the task of carrying He Tian’s body through the forest until—

A rope ladder starts to unwind down from the helicopter, and Guan Shan watches it fall like the first rain in a drought. It comes to a halt, hanging a few metres above the air from where Guan Shan is standing, and he stares upwards, heart in his throat.

A figure dressed in black begins to descend. Their movements are quick and practiced despite the swaying of the ladder, and soon He Cheng lands with a thump onto the ground and straightens his knees. He comes forward, puts a hand wordlessly on Guan Shan’s shoulder.

Guan Shan realises he’s started to cry. 

‘He’s over here,’ Guan Shan chokes out. ‘He was fine earlier and now—’

‘It’s okay,’ says He Cheng, inflectionless, moving past Guan Shan to where He Tian lies naked on the ground, face twisted in pain and fever. He Cheng’s voice is a flat line that Guan Shan clings to. ‘We’ll get him help.’

He crouches down at He Tian’s side, checking his brother’s eyes with a small torch and pressing two fingers to his neck. He Cheng nods to himself, mutters something into a radio that he has clipped to the waistband of his black cargo pants. Beside his brother, Guan Shan struggles to make sense of how small He Tian seems.

‘Is he gonna be okay?’ Guan Shan asks.

He Cheng glances at him. ‘I don’t know,’ he says honestly. ‘But I hope so.’ He holds Guan Shan’s gaze. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘You did well.’

///

‘How’d you even find us?’ Guan Shan mutters. 

He’s had water, an energy bar, and he’s wrapped tightly in a foil blanket that smothers him, swallowing his nausea while the helicopter veers towards the city. He Tian lies on a trolley that stretches out in the middle of them all, an IV drip embedded into his wrist. Guan Shan watches the bag of saline sway as they fly; his eyes flick routinely to He Tian’s face.

Jian Yi wears the giddy excitement of a sleep-deprived child and chews noisily on his third energy bar with his mouth open. At Guan Shan’s question, he lets out a _hah!_ sound.

‘How’d you think?’ Jian Yi asks, teeth coated in sticky chocolate. ‘You were butt naked!’

‘It’s what they do in the movies,’ Guan Shan mutters, protesting. He doesn’t have the energy to shout. ‘Sharin’ body heat and shit.’

Jian Yi snickers, throwing his wrapper into the growing pile on the empty seat beside Zhengxi. Jian Yi glances at him. Zhengxi has his eyes closed and his temple resting against the rattling window that peers down on the lit-up city below. He’s said little since He Cheng deposited him into the passenger seat and the helicopter pulled away, leaving the dense forest behind them. 

It’s a disturbing thought, Guan Shan thinks, that they’re still living the same day. He feels almost like he was in the forest for weeks. Soon, he’ll be in his own bed, in his own home. It doesn’t feel possible.

‘Hey, Zhan Zhengxi,’ he says, watching as Zhengxi cracks open one eye, then both. 

‘Hng?’

Guan Shan swallows, clutches the plastic bottle of water he has in his hands until it crackles. 

‘Wanted to thank you,’ he says. ‘I know you helped me and Jian Yi.’

Zhengxi considers him, then nods. ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Knew you’d do the same.’

 _Would I?_ Guan Shan thinks. Jian Yi is looking at him earnestly. He wonders how they can possibly know him more truly than he thinks he knows himself? Maybe the hold He Tian has on him isn’t unique. Maybe he’s an open road they all know how to travel.

‘Sure,’ Guan Shan mutters, looking away.

‘Maybe we should’ve done that, Xixi,’ Jian Yi simpers after a minute. ‘Y’know. Shared body heat.’

‘Nothing’s stopping you from sitting here,’ Zhengxi points out.

The wrappers fly into the aisle of the helicopter as Jian Yi lurches to occupy the seat at Zhengxi’s side. He falls bodily against Zhengxi, who tuts but otherwise welcomes the company, letting his arm drape nonchalantly around Jian Yi’s shoulders. Guan Shan grimaces and averts his eyes to where He Tian lies unconscious.

He startles. 

He Tian is staring at him.

‘Hey,’ He Tian murmurs. 

‘Yā, he’s awake!’ Jian Yi calls to the front, where He Cheng is liaising with the hospital staff to prepare for landing, and Qiu has his hands tight around the wheel. He Cheng turns his head around to look at his brother, nodding before resuming negotiations over the radio.

Guan Shan gathers close, crowding over He Tian with urgency. 

‘Where am I? He Tian mutters.

‘Helicopter,’ Guan Shan tells him lowly. ‘We’re gonna be at the hospital in a couple minutes.’

‘They found us?’

‘Yeah,’ says Guan Shan. ‘Your lily-white ass stared up at them like the fuckin’ moon.’

It sets He Tian off—a low, rumbling chuckle that makes him wheeze and groan, clutching at his side. Guan Shan doesn’t feel guilty about it. He Tian’s laughing; he’s alive.

‘You’re gonna be okay,’ Guan Shan tells him.

He Tian winces. ‘Cheng Ge said that?’

‘I think he tried.’

He Tian nods. He would’ve picked out the lie like Guan Shan throwing him a rope made of brambles, thorns in He Tian’s fingertips, pulling them out one by one. 

‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘For staying with me.’

Guan Shan stares down at him. He has a hand out, palm up, and his hand is clammy and warm when Guan Shan takes it in his own, made small by the length of He Tian’s fingers and the width of his palm. Guan Shan doesn’t mind that the others can see, too exhausted to be ashamed and angered for once by the public intimacy that He Tian ceaselessly goads him into offering.

 _Shoot me,_ he dares silently. _Anyone who cares can fuckin’ shoot me_. Out of spite, he holds it tight, lets his thumb run over the back of He Tian’s knuckles. 

He leans in close and murmurs: ‘Where else am I gonna go?’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! **If you'd like to show your thanks, please leave a kudos or comment, or consider supporting me further in ways that are linked on[my Tumblr](http://agapaic.tumblr.com/).** Wishing you all health and happiness!


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